Dark Angel
by Courtney of Many Dimensions
Summary: THIS IS JUST A MUSE! The Fellowship are crossing the Carahdras on their way to Mordor. Trouble awaits, along with a mysterious stranger. Is he friend, or foe? They're hoping for the former, cause he is PRETTY dangerous looking with that halberd R&R Please


A/N: This just a little muse that formed in my mind. This may or may not be continued. If it garners enough attention, I may consider continue it if I can balance between writing for this, and for Harry Potter and the Monkey's Uncle.

Warning: I am not an expert of Lord of the Rings, and I would appreciate any information you can offer me. If I decide to continue this story, I would like to know of all the places that are visited by Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli when the Fellowship split up

Disclaimer: I would think it obvious with my apparent lack of knowledge of the LotR. But anyways, I disclaim all that is Lord of the Rings. It belongs to J.R. Tolkien. I haven't even read the book, just seen the movie, which is also not mine. Belongs to What's-his-name...

* * *

The darkened sky threatened to break, and pour down onto the Fellowship of the Ring. It had been four weeks since they had set out on their journey to destroy the one ring in the fires of Mount Doom(?). Their feet were weary, their spirits low. They had narrowly escaped being spotted by the spy's of Sarumon, leaving the path they were hoping to take, lost. (A/N: Would like to know what they were called if they have a name, please and thank-you!) 

They made for the Carahdras, hoping to make their way through there, bringing them one step closer to Mordor; one step closer to destroying the ring. Boromir of Gondor was gaining the suspicions of the group, with his constant rants about how they should use the ring against the enemy. Unknown to them, their suspicions were slowly but surely bringing doom to the Fellowship, breaking them apart.

* * *

Hahladen was cold. No, freezing. Travelling the Carahdras was a stupid choice on his part, he didn't even know why he had chosen this path. It had seemed to call for him, like he was supposed to go there for something. He shook his head, clearing away his thoughts. He brought his fur-lined cloak closer around him, trying to ease away the biting cold. He pressed on, following his instincts that had never failed him before. 

His feet were numb from the snow, but he pressed on. His eyes felt like they were covered in ice, and he blinked back tears that the icy wind brought to them. The rest of his face was covered in cloth, and he was grateful for that respite, silently thanking the old innkeeper he had met before in a small village he had passed through, whom gave him the cloak and cowl. It was a gift for saving his daughter from a burning house.

He stiffened suddenly. Voices... there were voices ahead. His dark brown eyes strained to see who or what was coming his way. He crouched down by a rock, just as a group came into view. He dared not breathe, he dared not move, except reach for his halberd. Previous run-ins with orcs had him on edge. He only relaxed slightly when he noticed they were not orcs, but a group of men with four small boys.

_No. . . those are not boys, but Hobbits. Curious. . ._

Hahladen stayed quiet, noticing an elf in their midst. His stone-grey colored cloak allowed him to blend in with the rock, but the elf's hearing would pick up his breathing from a mile away. The group had paused, and he strained his hearing when he noticed them talking. The elf began to talk of a voice, and Hahladen felt his skin crawl.

He heard it too. A man's voice echoed throughout the mountain, and fear struck his heart when he realized what that meant. The earth began to rumble underneath his feet, as the voice chanted a language that was familiar to Hahladen. He ran out from his hiding place, roaring a counter spell to the voice. One of the strange group was doing the same, and he slid into sync with the one he discovered to be of the notorious Istari. The combined effort seemed to work, if only for a moment.

_Whoever that is, they are quite above my sorcery level, and it seems the same for the Istar._

Hahladen turned to the group and shouted over to them, "I do not know who you are, but we must get off this mountain with all due haste, or face death!"

Without waiting for an answer, he made his way over to the group, his movements sluggish, revealing how much effort he put into the spell. The group was deciding whether or not to trust him, and he respected their wisdom, but now was a time of quick thinking and trust.

"What are you waiting for? The mountain to fall down upon you?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth, then a loud resounding crack was heard. A large chunk of the mountain descended upon the group. Hahladen cursed loudly, and drew out his halberd.

"Time for some action, **Lómë Nar**."

The group pushed themselves against the wall to avoid the falling rock. They shouted for him to get back, but he ignored them. Twirling **Lómë Nar, **he felt it drain his power, building it up for one big burst. Hahladen felt it reach its peak, and he slipped down into an unknown stance.

And the rest blurred away, as he let go to a feral instinct.

* * *

Gandalf watched the stranger in a daze. He knew what he was, but he could hardly believe it. The stranger shot upward into the air, his halberd became a blur, as he swung it with a graceful harshness. The others were beyond shocked, and Gandalf found himself close to it as well. The blade of the man's halberd sliced the mountain rocks, as it glowed a dusky purple color. Its glow almost seemed . . . gleeful. The rocks fell far away from the group, as the force of the blows blew them at least twenty feet in the opposite direction. 

Yes, this man was exactly what he presumed. It was only _that_ race that held such a power.

Gandalf just prayed that he was on their side, desperately not wanting to be on the opposite end of the man's blade.

* * *

He felt the feral instinct slowly ebb away. He distantly heard the group shake out of their stupor, as they shot questions at him. His strength was gone, and the world seemed to spin, or was it his just his head spinning? His vision darkened, as he vaguely felt someone stop him from falling over the edge, and careening down the mountainside to his death.

* * *

A/N: Well, I think it's kind of cliche, but I needed to get it out of my system, for it has been interfering with my train of thought all day now, and it was starting to piss me off. 

Love it, or Hate it? Opinions, flames (ones that I can understand, for I don't understand the MSN talk people have come up with nowadays...), and lots of criticism will be prodded at to deem them reasonable. If you all out hate it, no need for language. I'm kind of angry at myself for the cliche-ness, for I just made Hahladen super-powered and knowledgeable, and the like. PLEASE CRITICIZE ME! IT'LL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!!!!


End file.
